


Sisters

by Isilloth



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2020, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilloth/pseuds/Isilloth
Summary: Almarian found consolation in an unhappy marriage in her sister-in-law's arms.
Relationships: Almarian/Isilmë (Tolkien)
Kudos: 2





	Sisters

**Author's Note:**

> For @silmladylove Femslash February 2020 prompt for 6.02 - Abâr (adunaic) "Strength, endurance, fidelity"

They were sisters. Or so the law stated. They were sisters by marriage, but Isilmë couldn’t feel what she felt to sister. And Almarian couldn’t feel what she felt to anyone, but her husband. Her marriage wasn’t exactly happy, and Isilmë was always close, always there for her. Which Meneldur wasn’t, too occupied with matters of the country, and when he wasn’t, too occupied with stargazing and astronomy.

In the garden full of flowers, in the morning breeze, Almarian, surrounded by greenery, was even more beautiful than ever. Isilmë, who just came to visit her brother, saw her, in the bright light of morning sun. The golden hair of her sister-in-law was like a halo about her head, and her bright blue eyes shone like a piece of the sky.

She approached Almarian, and it needed all her strength not to kiss her pink lips right away. But someone could see them… She looked around. They were alone in the garden.

“Almarian… You look beautiful,” Isilmë said, brushing her hair away from her face.

“So do you,” Almarian deep, vibrant voice was so sweet.

Isilmë couldn’t restrain herself anymore. She placed a light, chaste kiss on Almarian’s lips. Almost sisterly, but there was so much more to it. The promise of love, of fidelity, the strength of their passion. They walked hand in hand through the garden, touching, first briefly, timidly, then more and more lovingly.

“Someone could see us,” Isilmë said when Almarian’s hand wandered under her blouse. They were mostly hidden by particular thick bushes, but she didn’t want a scandal.

“Meneldur is always sleeping late and the staff are busy with their morning duties,” the queen was more daring. “Besides none would see us there.” She kissed her lover’s lips, with hands tangled in Isilmë’s dark hair.


End file.
